Ever Together
by Giacinta
Summary: Dean has angsty thoughts over his brother's wounded body, strange how Sam mirrors them. Set towards end of season seven. One-shot.


Ever Together.

* * *

Takes place towards end of season seven.

* * *

X

Dean hated this; hated it when he hadn't been quick enough to defend his brother, hadn't managed to put his body between the were-wolves and Sam.

He knew Sam was perfectly able to defend himself, taller and heavier than him, but Dean had never been able to throw off his ingrained big brother-ness; had _**never **_been able to get used to Sam bleeding out or suffering and he understood that he never would.

Whenever Sam was hurt, a similar pain resonated in his own body, like an echo; so attuned to each other as they were.

Dean sometimes wondered at this, at the sensation of being one with his younger brother, at their silent communication, their unerring instinct where the other was concerned. He had previously put it down to their limited, claustrophobic life-style, living at a hand's span from each other twenty-four hours a day, but now he wasn't so sure.

For him and Sam, that had been normal since they were kids, but he knew others saw their relationship differently.

X

Lisa had told him straight out while under the spell of Veritas that he and Sam had a weird tangled-up unhealthy relationship, and Dean couldn't deny the truth of it.

Their lives had been freaky from the first moment, except for those first four years of normality that Dean had enjoyed as a child, and still carried in the depths of his heart like some totem to immerse himself in when everything got too much.

His little brother wasn't as lucky; he had no oasis to retreat to.

Sam's life had been one long penance from when he was six months old. Sometimes Dean studied his sibling and wondered how Sam could have grown up as gentle and empathic as he was; how he still remained so, even after the horrors he had gone through, not least in the Cage and beyond.

X

He gazed down at his sleeping brother, lying pale and exhausted on the bed. No-one to tend his wounds except him. No mother, no wife, no best friend; nobody, just a big brother who would die for him in a minute.

Was that enough? It would have to be, for that's all there was, at least for now.

It was in moments like this that Dean knew who he was; understood why he existed. It was for Sam, to be there for his brother, to look out for him. Nothing else filled him with such love and satisfaction than taking care of Sam.

Weird, tangled up, unhealthy? Hell yeah, all of that and more; but he had experienced much, and nothing felt so right as having Sam at his side, hunting and saving lives; wearing out the Impala's wheels crossing the USA from one coast to the other; though he knew if Sam asked him, he would give up even that, if it made his kid brother happy.

Sam was the only one he _**would **_give up hunting for.

X

He tidied up, throwing away the blood-soaked towels and neatly packing up the first aid kit. Sam should be out for a while, he mused, the claw marks from the werewolves had been disinfected and bandaged up. All Sam needed now was rest and healing time.

They had been lucky so far, their wounds had always been curable, neither had been left seriously incapacitated, unable to hunt but the risk was always present.

If you weren't in perfect physical condition then your chances of coming back from a hunt unscathed were few and far between.

He was thirty-four now, Sam thirty. They were still young, still able to go up against any monster but their reflexes would only get slower with the passing of the years.

Once Sam had asked him what would happen when they got too old, and he had answered that they would be taken out by a monster before then, that it would finish up bloody for them.

He sighed; up till now nothing had happened to make him alter that opinion

X

Strange how he had become more protective of Sam now than when he was younger; maybe he was just more afraid of losing him.

If Sam suddenly decided to go back to Stanford, Dean knew he would follow him, he wouldn't let him go off on his own like he did the first time.

He had chosen to stay with John then, but if he had abeen given a second chance he would have gone with Sam. Dad had left him alone most of the time anyway, getting a truck and going off by himself to hunt.

Dad had loved them sure, but finding Mary's killer had gradually taken over all his energies, leaving only the crumbs for Dean and even less for Sam off at Stanford.

Well there was no way of changing the past as he had found out when Castiel decided Dean had to be informed about the 'abomination' that was his little brother, sending him back to when his Mom was young. No; no changing the past, there was only the future.

X

He went to turn away, when he felt a hand weakly grasping his arm.

"Dean..."

"Hey," Dean plastered a smile on his face as he stopped and glanced down at Sam. "You should be sleeping, Sammy. You got roughed up pretty bad; nothing that doctor Dean can't fix though, " he smirked.

" Dean.. thanks," Sam said shakily.

Dean passed a hand over his brother's forehead pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me Sam. How many times have you done the same for me, huh?"

Sam's eyes misted over. "Too many times, Dean. Far too many! It seems I've been patching you up forever. I'm glad the fugly got me this time. I hate to see you hurt, Dean. Always have, " he whispered.

Dean swallowed, his throat tight.

"Strange how that works both ways, Sammy. There's nothing that gets to me like you being wounded."

"Yeah, " Sam agreed. "We hate to see each other hurt, yet we continue to let it happen."

X

Sam grabbed his brother's shirt and held on tight.

"Maybe it's time we called it a day, Dean. I.. don't know if I'm going to be able to live with you getting hurt again," he insisted earnestly, his puppy eyes capturing Dean's and holding on tight.

"I've been without you twice now Dean, and I'll never make it through a third. If you die, I'll lay down beside you until I do too."

"Sammy...no... " Dean managed to get out around the lump in his throat. " Don't say that to me. I gotta believe you'll be okay, if something takes me out."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Dean but I've told you how it is. You go; I go."

X

He released Dean's shirt and fell back boneless, his reserve of energy exhausted.

"You gotta sleep, Sammy. We'll talk about this when you feel better," Dean replied soothingly.

"Promise me, Dean! Don't brush this off as one of your chick flick moments, cos' I'm serious," Sam breathed out before he lost his fight against sleep and closed his eyes again.

X

Dean gently pulled the sheet up over his brother and threw himself down on the other bed.

He had a lot to think about. Sam's words had scared him. He knew that if his brother had decided to die alongside him, he would. Sam was the stubbornest little bitch on the planet.

Dean wasn't going to let him do it though, so he would have to stay alive; if not for himself, for Sam..

Anyway who was he kidding? He had been without Sam for only three days when he had died at Cold Oak before selling his soul for him, unable to bear the loss of his little brother.

He wasn't going to live on without Sam either.

They had been born four years apart but when the time came, they would die together.

X

The enD


End file.
